Of Strangers, Science, and Sandwiches
by Anonymous Lazy Cat
Summary: Tony Stark is traveling abroad for work, but ends up having to stay longer than he thought. He gets bored, wanders off, and has his sorry ass saved by a strangely brilliant homeless man. Basically, your generic "what-if-they-met-before-they-actually-did" story.


Tony Stark was being mugged.

In retrospect, there was really no possible turn of events that could have led to him _not _being mugged- except, of course, if he hadn't gotten bored and decided to go exploring in a strange city in a strange country where he didn't speak more than a few phrases from the native language.

In retrospect, that had been a really shitty idea.

It was all Rhodey's fault. Well, no, not _really, _but that gave him someone to blame besides himself. Always a good thing. And, after all, Rhodey was the reason why Tony was stuck here for much longer than it would normally take to attend a weapons conference. Sort of. It had been Rhodey's plane that couldn't withstand a little bit of tinkering. And it had been Rhodey who told Tony that he would have to "suck it up and stay right the hell where you are until I figure out what the hell you did to that plane", which he had followed up with by referring to Tony as an "attention-deficit chipmunk with a screwdriver".

So really, not Rhodey's fault at all. But right now, Tony had more important things to worry about than the finer points of blame. Like the fact that there was a very dangerous-looking man holding him against a wall and rifling through his pockets and oh god, was that a _knife? _

Panic was really starting to set in when, all of a sudden, his would-be mugger was knocked aside by something. Or rather, _someone_- a second man had shown up. He was wearing pants and a jacket that seemed to be a few sizes too big, along with a pair of shoes that had clearly seen better days and a ragged old cap shoved over his tangled hair. He would have looked pretty harmless, if he hadn't been holding a handgun and pointing it at the first man. As it was, Tony got the feeling that this situation was about to turn from bad to worse.

The two men began to argue- at least, Tony _assumed_ they were arguing. He couldn't know for sure, since he didn't understand what they were saying, but it looked like they were debating who would get to rob him. The first one was talking very fast, but the second spoke more haltingly, with a bad accent.

After some more raised voices and gesturing- the latter mostly coming from the guy with the gun- the guy with the knife seemed to give up. He dropped Tony's watch and wallet, backed off slowly with his hands up, and then turned tail and _ran_. The second man tucked his gun into some unseen holster inside his jacket. Tony quickly took this opportunity to reach down and grab his things.

"You okay?" asked the strange man.

"Yeah. Sure." Tony said, straightening back up. "Not a very good mugger, are you? Is it your first time or something?"

"I wasn't planning on mugging you. Just trying to help out."

He paused, as if contemplating something. Now that Tony could get a better look at him, he noticed that the stranger seemed oddly weary. Worn-out maybe, like his clothes.

"It's probably not a good idea to keep wandering around by yourself," the stranger said finally. "I'm not the only one who carries a gun around here."

"I'll be fine." Tony answered. "I know where I'm going."

"No, you don't."

"Excuse me?"

The stranger gave him a slightly apologetic look. "It's obvious you're lost. No one who dresses like that" he pointed towards Tony's slightly rumpled but still perfectly tailored outfit "spends his time somewhere like this" he waved his hand at their dilapidated surroundings. "So, unless you _like _being mugged…"

Tony glanced around as well. "Yeah, you've got a point there. Lead the way." He hated bodyguards but, really, this guy hardly counted. Less "bodyguard" and more "bilingual hobo guide". Totally different.

They set off, walking side by side. "You know, you never mentioned your name." Tony pointed out. "I'm Stark. Tony Stark. But you already knew that, right? Everyone knows who I am."

Once again, the stranger paused for a while like he was trying to decide something.

"Bruce," he answered.

"Just…Bruce? No last name?"

"Not that I'm going to tell you, no."

"Why not?" Tony asked. "Are you a secret agent or something? Cause if you are, you're wasting your time. This place is duller than dirt." Suddenly, he had an idea. Something to spice up this trip a bit. Maybe a little ill-advised, yes, but all the best ideas were. "Hey, why don't you show me around? If you're a secret agent, I bet you know all the interesting places to go around here. If there are any. Which I doubt."

"Slight problem: I'm not a secret agent."

"Of course you're a secret agent. If you weren't then I was just saved by an ordinary, run-of-the-mill hobo. Doesn't sound very exciting, does it?"

_Well,_ Bruce thought to himself. _I can't fault _that_ logic. Mostly because it's not logical in any way, shape or form. _This was ridiculous, and what was even more ridiculous was the fact that he was actually considering saying "yes". Tony Stark, a brilliant, world-famous weapons dealer, just happeningto show up in the same place as Bruce was? And who apparently saw nothing strange about asking a complete stranger to show him around? No one could have come up with a more obvious set-up if they were trying. Which was exactly why he suspected that no one _had _been trying. He knew the people who were trying to find him, and none of them were quite this foolish. Besides, with any luck, he wouldn't have to worry about getting caught for much longer.

"Oh, what the hell," he muttered, tipping his cap down low over his eyes so he wouldn't be recognized by any passers-by. He didn't have anything else planned for the next few hours, and this would probably be better that just sitting around by himself.

"Great!" Tony answered, looking far more enthusiastic than Bruce was. "Let's go."

For about the first ten minutes, Bruce wondered if he had gone completely mad for agreeing to this. After that, though, it wasn't so bad. Stark did most of the talking, as well as most of the leading around- which was good, because Bruce didn't actually know this part of the city that well. Too many people, too easy to be spotted. So, while he was theoretically serving as a gide, in reality he was just making sure they didn't get lost or wander somewhere that Stark's appearance would garner the wrong sort of attention.

And he listened. A lot. Stark never seemed to stop talking. He talked about why he had been in this city to begin with. He asked questions that he clearly didn't expect an answer to. He told long, winding stories, most of which ended in some sort of drunken escapade. It didn't seem to matter one bit that the person he was talking to was virtually a stranger. Bruce had met people like this before, people who acted like life was one big game. To Tony, this was probably just an amusing diversion that would be forgotten about once something bigger and better came along. It was frivolous. It was pointless. It was _risky_. And Bruce hadn't enjoyed himself like this for a very long time.

After they had been walking for about an hour, Tony stopped in front of one of the buildings- a gaudy-looking place, with a bright flashy sign on the front. "That's a restaurant, right?" he asked. "Let's go in. I haven't had anything to eat since this morning, and I bet you haven't either."

"Well, I…er…"

"…can't afford it?" Tony said, finishing Bruce's sentence for him. "Yeah, I figured you'd say that. Don't worry about it. If I had to pay for a _real_ guide, it would cost way more than just the price of lunch."

Bruce wasn't about to argue. He never felt right accepting favors like this- he never felt as if he really deserved it, given everything that he had done. But when given the opportunity for a decent free meal, his growling stomach made the choice for him.

They went in, and sat down on opposite sides of a booth with red vinyl cushions that felt slightly sticky. Most of the inside, though, was much more subdued than one would have expected from the outside, with plain white walls and brown linoleum floors-the perfect color for hiding stains or spills. The place was almost empty, but there were a few tables occupied with other people looking for a late lunch. Some of them kept glancing over at where Bruce and Tony, and Bruce could have sworn he caught one of them pointing. He wasn't sure if it was because they recognized Stark, or just because of the odd-looking pair the two of them made. Just to be on the safe side, he pulled his cap down even more and looked away.

A young, pretty waitress wearing an apron the same shade as the seats came over and handed them menus. Tony gave her what Bruce assumed was supposed to be a charming smile. She offered up a small smile back before leaving to wipe down one of the other tables.

"I changed my mind." Tony said after she was out of immediate earshot. "I like this city."

"She's a waitress. I doubt she's actually interested. Probably she's just trying to get a tip."

"Oh, ye of little faith." Tony responded, reaching into a pocket on the front of his jacket and pulling out a small pad of paper and a pen. "Just wait and see."

He tore off a clean sheet of paper and scribbled down his own name and number on it. When the waitress came back around, he handed it to her with a wink after Bruce had finished telling her their order. She smiled again, a little awkwardly, as if not sure how else to react.

"See?" Tony said, leaning back with a satisfied look on his face. "I told you so."

It really wasn't that impressive, but Bruce didn't say anything. The pad of paper, still lying on the table, had caught his attention. On the top sheet was written what looked like equations- very complex ones at that. He couldn't resist taking a look.

"What's this?" he asked, eyes scanning the paper with great interest.

"Just some notes." Tony said, grabbing the pad back. "Heavy stuff. You wouldn't get it."

"One of them was wrong."

"No way."

"I can show you, if you'd like."

Tony handed the paper back, along with the pen. He looked both amused and highly skeptical. "Thought you said you weren't a secret agent."

"I'm not." Bruce muttered, peering down at the pad through his glasses. He found the error again, scratched it out, and wrote down the correct numbers before handing the pad back.

"You're right." Tony said, disbelievingly. He frowned at the page for a moment, then shrugged and tucked it back into his pocket. "It doesn't matter. Probably wrote that when I was drunk. So I'm still smarter than you."

"Whatever you say."

Their food arrived- sandwiches for both. Bruce dug into his right away, savoring the taste of good, warm food. Almost all the money he had managed to make lately had to be saved, so there wasn't much left over to spend on meals.

Tony, however, looked distracted. "I think I've got it figured out," he said after a few moments. "You're not a secret agent."

"…which is what I've been telling you."

"Wait, I'm not done. You're not a secret agent, you're some sort of mathematical genius who's living as a hobo to gain spiritual enlightenment."

"And where did _that _come from?"

"I dunno. You just look like the type. So, did I get it right?"

"Not even close."

"Then….you're a self-taught scientist who can't get a job because he can't afford a suit for the interview?"

"Wrong again." Tony was never going to guess right, that much he was sure of.

As they ate, Tony continued his wild speculations. After a while, they began to get downright…_bizarre._

"Let me see…you used to teach at MIT, but you were kicked out because of your unorthodox methods involving…chickens."

"Chickens? Seriously?"

"What's wrong with chickens? They can live with their heads cut off, which is more than you or I can say of ourselves."

Bruce just shook his head and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Tony was quiet for a bit after that. Then, suddenly, he sat up straight and snapped his fingers. "I've got it. You're secretly Dr. Frankenstein, and you're travelling the world to hunt after your creation."

"Almost. You're getting there, though."

Tony chuckled. He thought Bruce was just making a joke. There was no way he could have known how close he was. Who would? The truth was completely absurd, and sometimes the only reason Bruce believed it himself was because he had solid, irrefutable evidence.

Shortly afterwards the waitress came over to give them the check, which Tony paid. Then he checked his watch, which had been safely fastened back around his wrist after its attempted theft earlier.

"I should probably get going," he said, getting up.

"Same here." Bruce answered, standing up as well. It had been nice, borrowing someone else's life for a while, but now he had to give it back.

"So where're you off to next, Frankenstein?" Tony asked when they were on their way out the door. Bruce hesitated, searching around for a safe answer.

"Up north," he said. "After that…I don't know." There. Vague, but enough to keep Tony from asking more questions.

"Up north, huh? Heading to the arctic to try and slay your monster?"

"Something like that."

Tony just chuckled again. There was no way he could have known how close he was.


End file.
